


Seeking a friend for the end of the world

by Builder



Series: Whoa Bessie [21]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Hangover, M/M, POV Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sickfic, Trans Steve Rogers, Vomiting, War Veteran Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-27 04:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21386236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Builder/pseuds/Builder
Summary: “Mm.” Steve pushes himself further up on his knees. He wants to try for the sink, but isn’t sure he’s ready to be away from the toilet yet. “God, I’m just, I’m sorry you’re seeing me like this, that Buck’s seeing me like this—““It’s a hangover, Steve,” Sam says bluntly. “Not the end of the world.”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Whoa Bessie [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/892050
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50





	Seeking a friend for the end of the world

Steve wakes with his head hammering. The pillow feels like concrete beneath it. It’s like a wrecking ball’s gone a few rounds with his skull, then dragged him into the street to be run down by a garbage truck.

He must’ve groaned or something, because James nuzzles into his neck and sleepily asks, “you ok?”

“Hm?” Steve replies, trying and failing to roll over. The room starts to spin, then rocks sickeningly back in the other direction. “Ugh.”

“Still feeling rough?” James does the rolling over and gives Steve a pat on the back.

‘What do you mean, still?’ He fully intends to ask, but a hot belch rises from Steve’s stomach, tearing through his chest and bringing the taste of whiskey and bile to his tongue. Whatever’s going on, he does indeed feel rough.

“What happened?” Steve grumbles, swallowing hard. He feels like he’s going to vomit, but from the way his mouth’s feeling, he’s already done quite a bit of that. He doesn’t smell it on him, though, so that’s a good sign at least.

“I think we all had a few too many,” James says, half laughing as he sits up in bed. “You had a lot too many.”

A gust of cool air rushes in between the blankets, and Steve shivers. “That’s…” He scrubs the side of his face with his hand and tries to sit up too. “I don’t remember a thing.” He gets halfway upright when his stomach jolts. “I’m gonna throw up.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.” James shoots him a half smile as Steve launches out of bed and bolts for the bathroom.

Steve trips over the line of the threshold where the carpet changes to tile, and he barely makes it to the toilet before he gags. Hardly anything comes up, but what does is so sour and bitter it practically makes his eyes roll back in his head.

“ ‘S ok, Stevie,” James says, approaching slowly and pausing in the doorway. “Just get it up.”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve chokes as soon as he has the breath. “I’m— this is—“ He pauses to swallow a sick belch. “I’m supposed to be here for you, not, you know.” He gestures helplessly at the toilet bowl.

“Hey, it’s fine.” James squats at his shoulder, but Steve gives him a shaky push away.

“No, it’s not.” His face contorts as he vomits again. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“But Stevie, I’ve already—“

“Just go.” Steve spits out thick strings of mucous and bile. “Please.”

“I,” James starts, “Ok.” He stands and hovers for a moment. “You sure?”

Steve makes a gesture that clearly means ‘go away.’

“Alright.” James turns, but catches himself on the door frame. “But don’t blame me when I send in reinforcements.”

“Huh?” Steve barely contains a dry heave. But James is already gone.

A few minutes pass, and Steve eventually gives in to the fact that there is indeed more that needs to come up. He retches emptily a few times, then nearly chokes on a tablespoon or so of thick yellowish liquid. His chest burns so much that he knows that’s not the end of it, so Steve sighs and shoves two fingers down his raw throat.

“Real glamorous, Steve-o,” a new voice says from the doorway.

Steve cringes. He finishes the current heave and scrapes his teeth over his tongue before grabbing a length of toilet paper to wipe his hand. Then he looks up to see Sam taking up the space James had just vacated.

“Sorry you had to see that,” Steve groans. “I just—it was stuck—“

“I got it, I got it.” Sam lifts his hands in innocence. “No accusations flying here.”

“I can’t believe I—“ Steve brings his wrist to his lips to hold in a hiccup. He shakes his head dizzily. “What’re you doing here anyway?”

“Being a responsible citizen and not drinking and driving,” Sam says, lazily leaning against the doorway. “Besides, your couch is comfy.”

“Mm.” Steve pushes himself further up on his knees. He wants to try for the sink, but isn’t sure he’s ready to be away from the toilet yet. “God, I’m just, I’m sorry you’re seeing me like this, that Buck’s seeing me like this—“

“It’s a hangover, Steve,” Sam says bluntly. “Not the end of the world.”

Steve gets shakily to his feet. “Yeah.” He reaches for the countertop to steady himself, then turns on the tap. “I guess it’s not.” He swills out his mouth and mops his face with a hand towel.

“You feel up to cold pizza?” Sam asks. “Cause I think your boy’s beating you to it.”

Steve can’t contain the gag that bursts from his lips, spraying spit all over the mirror and sink. “Why’d you even say that?” He chokes.

Sam laughs. “Cause you needed to hear it.” He breaks off grinning, then taps the door frame and turns to go, whistling as he walks back towards the kitchen.

“Right,” Steve tells himself as he goes about cleaning up again. “He’s absolutely right.”


End file.
